


I'm Mr. Brightside

by blak_cat



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3660885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blak_cat/pseuds/blak_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While out on Summer Society campus patrol early in the new semester, Danny runs into her least favorite person. After a night of Alchemy Club-induced irritation, they just might come to an understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Mr. Brightside

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do a piece looking at Danny but also wanted it in the context of post-episode 36. So here it is.

You occupy a lot of time with night watches. The Summer Society teamed up, for, like, once, with the Zetas. Which basically meant you traded off nights to patrol the campus so you never had to actually see each other, and you always volunteered for the Society nights. Your sisters looked at you, concerned and like they knew better, and you ignored them. You needed something to do at night because, unfortunately, you're _still_ not quite over it.

"You know we'll gladly stuff her mattress with garlic, right?" says one sister. Tonight was a relatively clear night, but you're fairly certain there's some alchemy experiment gone awry that's turned the rocks on campus sentient.

"I have to at least try to get along with her," you say.

In all honesty, Carmilla has never proactively picked a fight with you. You were always the one picking fights and maybe that's part of the problem (or one of the many problems) that finally got Laura fed up. And agitating her now would make you look super desperate and super pathetic, because, at the end of the day, the Laura part of all the bullshit that went down wasn't actually Carmilla's fault.

"I'm just saying, we're here if you need—"

"Can we just take out the creeper club's newest Frankenstein's Monster?" you say because you come out here to ignore that stuff, not have honesty hour.

"Lawrence is right," says another sister. "What she really needs to get over this girl is one good night out. Forget the little ball of sunshine and Countess von Cranky."

You groan and mumble something about going to check the southern edge of campus that backs up to the forest. They call after you that you need someone watching your back and you say your back is too high up for them to watch. You're not usually one for adopting Carmilla style humor but it does feel good sometimes and you can kind of see why she's, like, 86% sarcasm.

\----

You _really_ liked Laura. A lot. And it didn't feel fair. Because you were perfect together, you met at every intersection and stopped for the same lights. You spoke on the same frequencies and saw the same world. She took up a room and it made you _beam_ , she went on rants and rambled and you wanted to fall asleep listening to it sometimes.

You never wanted so badly to kiss someone.

It wasn't even close to love, you knew. But it was the first time you thought it would head there one day.

And the idea that Carmilla might, in her own twisted, sick, sociopathic way, see the same things in Laura, enraged you. Because only you were allowed to think she was special, only you got to notice those things, only you got to experience those things. You wanted to put a sign on her, a brand, a name tag, something that made her yours. But Laura evaded that at every turn.

So you blamed the easiest thing, the villain in the room. Because it had to be her, it had to be, this couldn't be something you messed up yourself. And Laura was so reckless and impulsive and you wanted to protect her but Laura spun it. She said you wanted to cage her. You didn't, you swear. You just needed her safe and needed to know that she was yours.

But it was your own fault for making yourself hers long before she ever even thought of agreeing to be yours. And hearing her tell you how much she truly did like you hurt a lot more than flat out rejection because it was working, the two of you could work and you imagined dates and hand holding and kissing and Laura did too.

You fucked up. You know that now.

It was just the universe's cruel trick that she also happened to fall in love with Carmilla.

You kept your metal baseball bat up as you passed just beyond the campus's boundaries and approached the thick line of the trees. It was dark and heavy and you think the forest might exist in some other dimension like some fucking _Twin Peaks_ shit. You don't plan on going in, but it's a quiet place to rest and not be toggled with questions and all sorts of ways your sisters thought they were being helpful by proposing methods to screw with Carmilla.

You hated that you had to be the one to hold Laura back when Carmilla jumped and her first instinct had been to run after her. It looked bad and it felt bad and Laura was crying and yelling and punching and kicking and kept repeating over and over "We can't leave her down there" and you felt like a dick but you also know this is what Carmilla would want you to do (since when did you do anything she wanted you to do?) and that Laura sometimes really did need to be protected from herself.

In the awkward not-a-break-up period you did your best not to imagine all the ways Carmilla was sliding closer to Laura and you didn't watch the videos but you saw the result of whatever went on between them in Laura's pale face and red eyes in the week following the battle beneath the Lustig. She was _miserable_ and didn't care if she woke up or ate and Perry called you over when Laura had a bit of a breakdown fighting over Carmilla's pillow with Betty.

Laura really was the sun, and clouds replaced Carmilla.

So when you saw her lifeless and surrounded by Zetas, you scooped her up without even thinking because she needed Laura, you think that might somehow bring her back to life. And Laura certainly needed her.

You go about your time away from school assuming things that go on between them, you see some of their tweets but it doesn't say much about any relationships developments. You're just happy to see everyone's safe.

But the first week back you see them sitting together, on a snowless and slightly warmer day. They hid from the sun under the sporadic shade the branches of a tree offered. Laura was upright and against the tree, next to her was an open book, long forgotten as her hands ran through the hair of a sleeping Carmilla whose head lay in her lap.

Even though it wasn't your scene to witness, you watched because you needed to. You needed to make it stick in your mind. So you watched until eventually Laura bumped her legs and Carmilla blinked feverishly, waking with what must have been a groan because Laura looked like she was laughing and then she leaned over, eyes closed and you looked away before their lips met because you got it. You understood.

And now you're doing night patrols three times a week to feel useful and to keep yourself from going completely crazy in your room.

At least it's a full moon tonight and you can see the lay of the campus fairly clearly. It's quiet though because you're sure nothing got down this far and you try not to think of Laura's dorm room and her and Carmilla sleeping curled up together or, god-forbid, not sleeping at all…

A rustle from behind gets you on your feet and you raise your weapon on instinct.

"At ease G.I. Jane," says the last voice you want to hear.

"What are _you_ doing here?" you say before even turning around to come face-to-face with her smug grin, visible in the dark because her pale as fuck skin could be patented as a reflective material.

"Clearly plotting the best way to ignite World War III," she says.

She's sitting on the stump of a tree at the line of the forest, lazily reclined back. Next to her is a book and a thermos whose contents you think you can guess. She's barely bundled up, even though your phone said it was going down to -15.

"Any reason you decided the edge of campus in the middle of the night was the best place to get in some nice light Kant reading?" you say, you walk around and pretend to be scanning the area to distract yourself and hopefully divert her burning desire to ask you what you were thinking about.

"I prefer being outside," she says. You think she means something else by that but you're not sure. "Besides, this is basically my equivalent of 2pm and I get restless."

"Well can you take your vampire ADD elsewhere?"

"I was here first, Groot."

She leans back and picks up her book and you want to bash her head with the bat because you know it'll heal in like a week but you also know Laura would probably stack five boxes just so she could smack you herself. But Carmilla is not allowed to be in your area, this is your stew-in-your-own-annoyance-away-from-anyone-else space and she's daring you to do something, you just know it, so that she can run home and tell on you and Laura will hate you.

Or maybe she's just out reading. But it still pisses you off.

"Look, there's some psycho alchemy experiment on the loose, can't you do your reading in a normal place?" you say.

"I think I can survive whatever horrors the Hogwarts rejects cooked up tonight," she says lazily, not taking her eyes of the book.

You throw up your hands and huff and shrug and start to walk away.

"But while I have your attention with, what is no doubt, several very colorful ways you're going to murder me," she says.

"I swear to God Carmilla—"

"I wanted to say thank you."

That stops you. You turn around expecting some sort of "…for being so tall and ginger that planes can you use as a landmark" but she's still looking in her book. Her eyes aren't moving and they're too unfocused to actually be reading and you realize not only was she serious but she was also hiding in the best way she could.

"For what?" you say.

She put the book down but she didn't look up at you.

"That place was a literal nightmare," she says. "And I might have gone clinically insane right about now if you hadn't pulled me out. Laura told me you carried me back so…thanks."

You briefly wonder if she'd been forced into this, if somewhere on her person she was wearing a wire that Laura was using to extract evidence that you'd kissed and made up. But she was fidgety and way to interested in random plants on the ground for this to not be, at least a bit, genuine.

"Oh, well—no problem," you say.

She nods and that seems to be the end of the conversation. She picks up her book to go back to reading and you two share some sort of silent promise that you're never going to speak of this to anyone, not even Laura. And you turn to go about your business when you hear a rustling.

It's coming from behind you and your first instinct is to whip around with bat raised. Carmilla raises an eyebrow at you but her head is cocked to the side and you know she can hear it to (probably far better than you with her Krypton level hearing).

"What is it?" you ask but she shushes you and turns towards the forest.

To your ears the rustling has stopped but you know she can still hear something because she's leaning towards the forest and now and positively looks like she's _prowling_ and you suddenly remember that she's a fucking vampire and you panic.

"Carmilla, I swear if you're about to hunt down someone and not tell me—"

"Don't give yourself an aneurysm, I'm on a purely carton and bag diet," she says. "Besides it's not anything with a heartbeat."

That should honestly freak you out way more than it does but it's Silas and of course whatever's rustling isn't human. Carmilla doesn't share your sense of humor though because she still looks ready to pounce and you get a little closer and can actually see her fangs. You've never seen them before, you kind of just trusted they were there, and now they're sharp and out and something about Carmilla's entire body language has changed and the air feels dangerous.

And then you realize she thinks it's another vampire and this is her in territorial mode. And now you're a little bit scared and back off, bat raised right in front of your face.

She takes some more steps forward and is staring holes into the black curtain of trees and you're certain you could hear a pin dropping on the other side of campus right now because you're holding your breath.

It's not a vampire.

In fact, you're not sure what it is because you're suddenly on the ground seeing stars after feeling a hard shove by decidedly human hands. You're trying to regain your bearings enough to yell at Carmilla for what you assume is some stupid practical joke when you hear a female groan and locate her on the ground as well.

There's a crackling you turn to see a small rocky, rolling around the ground sporadically and violently _Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me_. So Silas's most hated club did in fact manage to craft some weird troll rock creatures and one just totally made a go for you.

You huff and walk over to its mini Tour de France across the grass, muster the biggest back swing you can, and let the bat fly down, golf style, on the little creature. It hurts your hands and your arms are vibrating but you managed to knock the thing a good few meters away and you think you even put a crack in it.

"I swear I'm going D Day on their house—"

You turn to see Carmilla still on the ground and curled up. She's moving and groaning so you know she's conscious but she's, very clearly, in a lot of pain.

"Carmilla?"

You walk over and drop next to her. And then you remember human hands shoving you and with no one around and Carmilla the only viable culprit you force yourself to come to the most unimaginable conclusion. 

"Wait, did you just take, like, a bullet for me?" you say.

"Look I'm really regretting it because it hurt a lot more than I thought it would."

You roll your eyes and lean over to get a look. The shoulder she's not leaning on looks a little grotesque and her free hand is hovering near it like she wants to grab it but is too afraid of the pain. It looks wrong, even under her leather jacket. 

"Anything broken?" you ask.

"No," she grunts. "My arm is numb and I can't move it."

Dislocated. That's a bummer.

A few of the Society girls are trained in First Aid and could pop it back in but you have no idea where any of them got off to and you're not exactly jonzing to bring your mangled mortal enemy to a group of people who would probably make sure that the reduction process would be as painful as possible.

"I don't know how to pop joints back in," you say.

"Haven't you seen movies? You just sort of pull," she says breathlessly.

"No, I need to get you some actual medical help," you say.

"Can we involve as little people as possible?"

"Yeah I'm sure this is really going to hurt your reputation on campus as the lovesick martyr."

She huffs and you think she's in too much pain to even think of a comeback and also maybe a little embarrassed that the entire school no longer fears her as a creature of the night in favor of romanticizing her "doomed for love" fiasco last semester. But that's what she gets for tweeting about it.

"I'm getting you up."

And that's all the warning you give her before you yank her up by her good shoulder and she groans but she obliges and, despite both your searing anger, leans against you as her feet plant firmly on the frozen ground. You take four steps before she stops and turns and you hear the rustling again as your friend, Satan's rock, comes rolling across the field ready to lung itself at you a second time and you hold up the bat with one hand ready to defend but Carmilla has other ideas.

In a rush of air and very little noise you watch as Carmilla shrinks to the ground and then grows fluidly, in a wisp of smoke, into a large black panther. On three legs it lets out a growl and lunges at the small object, very sharp, very large teeth bared and the angriest yellow eyes you've ever seen. The face, oddly enough, is still undeniably Carmilla. Something about the angles of the brow and shape of the eyes give her away beneath the obvious layer of big cat.

The sentient rock runs off and Carmilla begins hobbling on three legs towards the campus.

"Are you kidding me?" you say when it's clear she intends to remain in her cat form.

You roll your eyes and grab her book and thermos before trotting after her.

It doesn't take long to catch up between your own long legs and her pathetic pace with one paw dangling in the air. You hate to admit that if this panther was anyone other than Carmilla it would almost be cute. But it's her so it's annoying and she's being difficult on purpose and whatever, most of the campus doesn't know she turns into a giant cat so it saves you having to explain anything to anyone who might see you (well, explaining anything with Carmilla).

When you open the front door of her dorm building she goes in first and then bounds up with stairs quickly and you lose sight of her only to find her, once you reach the third floor, outside the room of Perry and LaFontaine gently nudging her head against it in dull thuds until it opens.

"What the hell?" comes LaFontaine's voice and you half job the rest of the way to the door.

"It's just Carmilla," you say and watch LaFontaine's half asleep face register the information and shake their head.

"Right…uh, come in?"

LaFontaine opens the door wider to admit you and Perry looks more mopey than you've ever seen her, awoken in the middle of the night to a panther shedding black fur all over her rug. Carmilla plops down in the center of the room, tail whipping back and forth with _clunks_ , and you see her feline rib cage going a mile a minute. And maybe now you're starting to feel bad because she's in a lot of pain.

"So…this is the strangest thing to ever happen to me at 1am," LaFontaine says. "What's up?"

"Carmilla's hurt," you say. "Long story short: some alchemy club experiment gone wrong dislocated her shoulder. You're the only person I know who's probably any good at fixing it."

"Besides a doctor?"

"At 1am."

"There's something called the emergency room."

"Yeah and after they realize she's got no vital signs I think the shoulder will be the least of her worries."

LaFontaine groaned.

"I'm studying biology from a research perspective, not to be an MD," they say.

"You know anatomy better than any of us though, besides Carmilla said all you had to do was yank it back into place."

It sounds gross and painful and honestly you don't want to be the one to do it. LaFontaine frowns and tilts their head and looks at the giant cat. It dawns on you, and maybe LaFontaine as well, that it was Carmilla who sought them out. That's a level of trust you don't think Carmilla ascribes to easily. Actions over words, you keep telling yourself.

"Alright well, we're gonna need ice and anti-inflammatories and a sling," LaFontaine says, looking to Perry who immediately begins rifling through a large box underneath her bed.

Out flies band-aids of all sizes, gauze packets, sterile wipes, ace bandages, and some other odds and ends before Perry huffs.

"Kirsch used the last of the ibuprofen after the semester opening paintball gauntlet in the quad," Perry says.

"Well there is someone just about 10 feet away with an even bigger trove of First Aid supplies," LaFontaine says, getting up and Carmilla stirs for the first time, hobbling forward with zero prowess to try and block LaFontaine's path. "Oh come on Carmilla, as if Laura wasn't going to find out anyway."

"I'll get it," you say and you're out the door before Carmilla can embarrassingly try to stop you as well.

Three doors down the hall you stand in front of 307 and you groan because this is all so dumb and not at all what you wanted to come out of these night patrols and your sisters probably think you died or ran off to a bar in town. And you'd honestly rather be there than doing this right now.

You knock three times very forcibly. There's nothing for 15 seconds and you knock again a little harder and you hear a rustling and the creak of the floor from behind the door. Someone is fiddling with the lock (because apparently the only time the lock of 307 is ever used is in the middle of the night). The door is swinging open and the most adorable sight in the world greets you.

She's in her typical tank top and flannel pants, her hair is disheveled and everywhere. She's hanging onto the door and teetering as it swings a bit on its hinges and its clear she's only 80% awake but she's slowly registering it's you standing at her door. You really do miss Laura. 

"Danny?" she says in a sleep covered voice at least an octave lower than normal.

"Hey," you say. "So, long story, um--but we need your First Aid kit."

She wakes up at this, or at least tries because she starts blinking like her lashes might help her take flight and her knuckles go white on the handle.

"Is everything okay?" she asks, turning around to flip on the owl lamp. She drops onto her stomach and stretches both arms under her bed. It's at this point you decide to ignore the obvious lack of use Carmilla's perfectly made bed has been getting and instead help Laura lift up the large plastic container she halls out onto the floor.

"Yeah, nothing life threatening or anything," you say, flipping one of the latches. "Carmilla just got kinda—knocked around a bit."

She almost loses the container lid and turns to look at you. You see the ghost of that look you came to know so well during Carmilla's sojourn in the pit below the Lustig. It's just a flash of the misery that could have been but it's enough that you step in quickly.

"No, no she's okay," you clarify. "She's just in pain and _being_ a pain about it."

You hope the joke conveys that it's not serious, just stupid.

"LaFontaine said we need some anti-inflammatory meds and sling," you say.

She nods and swallows before digging through a much larger stash than Perry's. When the items are located she nods to you, pale faced, and starts walking. You lead her a few feet to Perry and LaFontaine's room and the second she walks in the panther in the corner seems to scrunch down a whole five inches and drop her head. The ferocious beast of only twenty minutes prior is now a kitten waiting to get pulled up by the scruff of its neck.

_She's actually useless._

"Dislocated right shoulder," LaFontaine says. "Except I'm not a zoology major. I kind of need her human if we're going to get it back in place."

"She went all Animagus to scare off the thing that attacked us and since then I think she's just been embarrassed," you say, sitting down on the unoccupied bed.

Laura hands the supplies to Perry. Then she kneels down in front of the big cat and holds its head firmly with both hands. Carmilla or not, the panther is scary and your first instinct is still to protect Laura from herself.

You stay still though. Carmilla won't hurt her.

Laura looks in the panther's eyes and they hold contact for only a moment before the panther drops its gaze and Laura glances down at the wounded shoulder.

"Mircalla Karnstein," Laura says sternly. "I don't care how bruised your ego is. Change back in the next 5 seconds."

There is no "or else I'll…" and Carmilla doesn't seem willing to budge immediately until Laura tilts her head sharply as if daring Carmilla to make her count. The panther obeys and soon it shrinks down, fur dissipates and Carmilla, in all her tiny, angry (useless) glory sits in its place.

"Alright, now we're talking," LaFontaine says and comes over to kneel on Carmilla's bad side.

"Are you alright?" Laura asks so soft that you almost don't hear and you pretend to be interested in a poster over LaFontaine's bed.

Carmilla must nod because you don't hear any follow up questions and turn back to see Laura now situated on Carmilla's good side, squeezing her hand and arm with her own and watching LaFontaine study the dislocated joint carefully.

"So," they begin. "The way these things usually work is the joint dislocates anterior style, pops itself in a little too far in the shoulder socket. With the other kind, where the it's kind of hanging outside the socket you push up and kind of twist to get it back in there. A lot more complicated, so you got kind of lucky here. With this kind you just give it a good—"

At the sound of a watery, and disturbing _crack_ , Carmilla lets out a yell, lurching forward in pain and Laura falls forward with her, burying her head in Carmilla's left shoulder, muttering something. 

"Yank."

You hadn't even noticed LaFontaine's hands coming to Carmilla's shoulder and now they look entirely too proud as they gingerly prod the shoulder and test minimal amounts of movement. Laura runs her fingers through Carmilla's hair and absently running her fingers up and down her arm. LaFontaine shoves a sling into Carmilla's chest.

"Keep it immobilized for a while," LaFontaine says. "Hope you don't need your right hand."

"I'm left handed," Carmilla growls.

"Make sure she wears it."

Laura nods and forces Carmilla to sit up as she shimmies the sling onto her shoulder and then gingerly takes her right arm and sets it gently inside the canvas hammock before adjusting the straps. LaFontaine cracks the icepack and presses to Carmilla's right shoulder, which earns a hiss.

Your quota is reached in that night's daily game of Danny And Carmilla Take Turns Owing Each Other. You think maybe, under different circumstances, you might get along. Perhaps in a few months you'll even become, you gag just thinking about it...friends. You don't think you'll ever get used to the nicknames or the snark but Carmilla herself isn't exactly the worst human being in existence. 

But for now, you settle for handing her the half-full thermos and worn book.

"Thanks," she mumbles, taking them.

"Thank you," you say because you think she doesn't want anyone knowing what she did for you and you hope she understands this is your silent promise not to tell anyone (though the first time she pisses you off enough you'd definitely be willing to break that promise).

You get up to leave alongside Laura and Carmilla. The former waves goodnight and mentions something about the two of you hanging out more (Carmilla glares at that). Carmilla just vies you a curt nod which you return and you watch the pair of them leave, hand-in-hand, down the hallway, Laura mumbling something that looks like a scolding into Carmilla's ear who's taking it with a laugh which only earns more scolding.

You're still jealous, you are, you can't deny it. But right now you think you've finally seen a glimpse of what Laura saw in her. Whatever it is, it's there. And if nothing else was accomplished tonight, you don't blame either of them anymore.


End file.
